Conversations I Have with My Cat

Gwennie:  Did I say you could have a blog?

Me:  I didn’t realize I needed your prior approval.

Gwennie:  Of course you need my prior approval.  I am, after all, the HCIC.

Me:  HCIC?

Gwennie:  House-Cat-In-Charge

Me:  Did you just make that up?

Gwennie:  Yes.  Do you like it?

Me:  Yes.  It’s very cute.

Gwennie:  Well, if you’re gonna blog then I wanna blog.

Me:  Why don’t we share a blog?

Gwennie:  Because I want my own blog.

Me:  (Sigh)  Okay.  Can I share your blog with you?

Gwennie:  If you must.

Me:  What’s your niche gonna be?

Gwennie:  My niche?

Me:  Yeah.  Your theme.  Your thing?

Gwennie:  I’m a cat.

Me:  And?

Gwennie:  And what?  I’m a cat.  That’s my thing.

Me:  What should we call your blog?

Gwennie:  I don’t know.  Pet me.

Me:  Pet me?  That’s the title?

Gwennie:  No.  Pet me.  As in, PET ME NOW!!!

Me:  Oh sorry.

Gwennie:  That’s alright.

Me:  How about Diary of a Disgruntled Cat.

Gwennie:  What’s disgruntled?

Me:  It means cranky.

Gwennie:  I’M NOT CRANKY!

Me:  Okay. Okay.  Be quiet.  The baby is sleeping.

Gwennie:  I am the baby.  Oh.  You mean the little thing.

Me:  Yes.  You know the little thing has a name.

Gwennie:  Yes.  He’s Momma’s Little Thing.  That’s his name.

Me:  Fine.  People might think that Disgruntled is a funny reference for a cat’s blog.

Gwennie:  Will they think I’m actually disgruntled?

(Pause)

(Pause)

Gwennie:  Momma!  Will they think I’m actually disgruntled?

Me:  Only the people who know you.

Gwennie:  Oh.  Well that’s okay.  Momma, your pen is running out of ink.

Me:  I’m on it.

Gwennie:  That’s better.  Momma, why are you writing this on paper, anyway?  Just type it into the pooter.

Me:  The pooter?

Gwennie:  Yes, the pooter.

Me:  What’s the pooter?

Gwennie:  The pooter, Momma!  The pooter!  The thing with the buttons that make a clicking sound when you push them.  It’s just like the one you had in Kansas City.  Remember?  I chewed a couple of buttons off of that one.

Me:  Oh!  You mean the computer.

Gwennie:  That’s what I said.  The pooter.

Me:  Speaking of which, I never did find the F7 button.

Gwennie:  Not my fault.  I didn’t do it.

Me:  You just said you did.

Gwennie:  Nope.  Couldn’t have been me.  I didn’t do it.

Me: (Long sigh)  To answer your question, the computer is charging and I like to write everything on paper first and then type it up.

Gwennie:  Sounds like a whole lot of work if you ask me.

Me:  Well, I didn’t ask you.

Gwennie:  You should have.  I am the HCIC.

Me:  So you keep telling me.  Have we settled on Diary of a Disgruntled Cat for your post title?

Gwennie:  Yes, that’s acceptable.  Do you really have to share my blog with me?  What if I get rich and famous?  Then can I have my own blog?

Me:  If your posts get you rich and famous then, yes, you can have your own blog.

Gwennie: We could still share if I get famous but then you’d have to pay me loyalties to use my blog.

Me:  Loyalties?  Oh you mean royalties.

Gwennie:  Loyalties. Royalties.  Whatever, momma!  You need to remember that I’m only three years old.  I think I have an exceptional vocabulary for a three year old.

Me:  Yes, I’d have to say for a three year old cat, you do have an exceptional vocabulary.

Gwennie:  Thank you, Momma.

Me: You’re welcome, Gwennie.

Leave a Reply